Born Wicked

LX

 "What did she just say?" Julian's tone is positively chilling.

I swallow hard. "Julian, she said..." my voice catches. "She said you're parents—

"I've got to go," he says.

"Julian."

"What, Jayme?!" he yells at me. "They're my parents. I have to go!"

"Julian," I try again. "I know that. I'm saying, you're in Melrose and it's almost a half hour away. We'll go," I shoot Blythe a look but she already grabbing her keys. Totally on board. Okay, maybe she's not totally useless.

"I'm coming," he says, "I'll get there. Stay away from my house."

I feel a pang of hurt. "Julian..."

"Dammit, Jayme," he growls. "I love you, okay? I know I don't say it, because we're just friends, right? But it doesn't change how I feel. I'm in love with you and I can't handle you going over there right now."

I hear him breathing hard, clearly running, most likely to his car.

"They're your parents, Julian," I murmur gently. "Let us help you, please."

"I can't," he sobs and I nearly die. "I love you. And I didn't think I could possibly love you more, and yet here we are. My father..." he audibly gulps. "After what he did, you'd go over there to save him. I love you for that. But I've already almost lost you. Three times. I cannot do it again. I won't survive it."

I feel the tears on my cheeks and Blythe watches me somberly. "I know that. I can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me, that you care about me so much, but Julian, they're your parents. I lost mine remember? I'm telling you. You need us to get there. You need to know we tried. Because if we don't..."

I can't finish the thought. Julian doesn't need me to.

"Goddammit, Jayme-Lynn Price," he growls. "I hate it when you do this to me. I hate that I even need this. Do not, under any circumstances, get hurt. Please."

I nod numbly. "I won't."

"Promise me."

"Julian," I say softly. "Let me go. We don't have the time."

"Go," he sobs.

I don't let him say anything else. I hang up the phone and we run out of the house.

It takes seven and a half minutes to get to Julian's parents' house from mine. They're on the north side, behind the mall. Theirs is a gated, affluent community. Blythe and Shane live in this neighborhood, too. Seven and a half minutes to where the rich people lay there heads on down filled pillows. Blythe gets there in five.

And even then, we're too late.

We didn't even have a chance. The house is destroyed and Julian's parents...

Blythe is retching in the front hedges. I've already emptied the contents of my stomach and now I'm sitting on his front step numb. I'm so fucking useless.

And I can't stop crying. I didn't like David Cross, and I never even met Julian's mother Margot, but I weep uncontrollably for what I know is Julian's pain.

Too soon and yet not soon enough, Julian's red Porsche flies into the driveway. He climbs out of the car and I lift my face up from my hand and look at him woefully.

He stops short and blinks.

His face is blank for a heartbeat and then flushes red with rage. Without a word, nor a backward glance at his house, he climbs back into his car and peels out of the driveway with a screech and lurch. His tires squeal as he races off, back the way he came.

Blythe comes and stands next to the wide stone porch.

"He didn't even go inside," she says blankly.

I nod as fresh tears fall. "Maybe it's better he didn't. It almost killed me seeing Gran when she..."

I don't bother finishing the thought. David and Margot Cross met the same horrific end. A blade to the—

"Dagger," I say numbly.

Blythe looks over her shoulder. "What?"

Pieces click together achingly slow. "Davis had a scabbard at the diner. So, wouldn't Ethan have one? Or a dagger?"

Blythe frowns. "Yeah? So?"

I stare at her for a second. "What would you do if you knew who killed your parents?"

She frowns. "I'd fucking kill anyone who hurts my family."

I nod at her like she's slow. "Precisely."

"You think Julian's gone after the Guild?" she scoffs. "He isn't that stupid. Besides, he doesn't know where they are. Or even who they are."

"No," I say slowly. "But he knows where two descendants are."

She gasps. "Oh, no. He wouldn't... would he?"

I climb to my feet and start toward her car. "Wouldn't you?"

She follows behind me and says, "Yeah, but they weren't even here. They're at the game and—"

I glance back at her.

"The football field," she gasps, horrified.

We climb into her car and fly to Melrose.